The Seven Stages of Grief
by adoubletn
Summary: People say that there are seven stages of grief. Seven stages of emotions you go through after the loss of the ones you love. They're hard, they take a while, but after a while, they're all cycled through. And when that time has come, finally, new life can start again.


The Seven Stages of Grief

By adoubletn

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a long while; this is my apology fic, full of grief and angst for you. I hope you enjoy it, I'll see you at the bottom. (:_

_Title: The Seven Stages of Grief_

_Rating: K+_

_Era: Post-DH, Cannon-Compliant_

_Genre: Angst_

_Summary: People say that there are seven stages of grief. Seven stages of emotions you go through after the loss of the ones you love. They're hard, they take a while, but after a while, they're all cycled through. And when that time has come, finally, new life can start again._

* * *

He clawed at the mirror, the screams ripping from his throat unlike any that had ever been heard before.

How could this be happening? They had plans together, amazing wondrous plans.

His family and friends backed slowly away from him, the anger he felt created a billowing cloud of energy, electrocuting those who ventured forth in vane attempts to comfort him in his grief.

Far away, in the mountains above the school, a griffin roared and screamed, crying out in grief, realizing the magnitude of destruction and death the world had just witnessed.

Earthquakes shook the valley, and a storm roared in the clouds. Those who could see magic would've seen the edges of the wards of Hogwarts rippling, taking in the stray magic shot off from the cloud of grief surrounding the school.

And in the heavens, a hand reached out hopelessly to try to comfort his grieving, still alive brother.

Who was the _holy_ one now?

* * *

The moment they died, he felt it.

Two little snaps, two huge parts of his life pulled away from him.

Even in his infancy, he felt it.

His grandmother could not calm him down from his crying.

Five hours he sobbed uncontrollably until he finally cried himself to sleep.

Two hours later he woke up and cried again.

An hour later, the exhausted godfather he had never once seen came to meet him.

He was given the offering of a pair of plush werewolves, his parents' wedding rings tied around each.

In his godfather's arms, he finally settled himself to a low mournful whimper.

The two mourned together.

* * *

One moment, a soul exists still in a person, and their existence is guaranteed by their _living._

And the next second, it's gone. Gone like the flash of a light bulb.

All that's left are memories. Snapshots of the life they once led, seen through the lenses of the people who knew them.

He held his brother's camera, his legacy in his hands, fighting the urge to smash the thing into the wall.

But he didn't.

He kept the camera and developed the film, just the way he was taught.

The last picture, the last picture was of them, smiling and waving at the camera, living in the moment and enjoying their brotherhood.

The photograph fluttered out of his hands, and he fell to the floor.

It took a whole week, but in that moment; that was when he finally let out the tears and let the flood of emotion he had kept locked in flow.

It took him a whole week to finally get ready to face the world again.

* * *

She could no longer be found hustling and bustling about the house.

She spent her days sitting in a rocking chair by the fire, turning over and over in her hands the jumper she had knitted so long ago.

She sniffled as she found a hidden pocket in the seam, and she burst into tears as she pulled out the item hidden inside of it.

One of those blasted candies. She remembered the way she had went on and on about them, admonishing her sons on their use of them on others.

And now, one of those sons was gone.

She sobbed for her and her family's loss.

From the doorway, her two youngest looked on, together in their grief, but neither could find a way to comfort her.

* * *

He walked in the doorway of the old grimy place and stood there for a minute, feeling a wave of memories wash over him.

The troll leg tipped over on the side, almost permanently, a reminder of her and her bubblegum pink hair.

The grooves in the floor and walls, reminders of his once desk partner's husband.

He missed the couple, and had gone to visit the child only the day before.

The mash up of his facial features and her hair had at first had him taken aback.

But it got easier to stomach as the days went on.

His heart still ached for his friends and comrades, but he swore he would do his best to protect the legacy of the most interesting field partner he had ever had.

* * *

He may not have been her best friend; he was barely even her friend.

But he was still a huge part of her life.

His portrait hung now, moody and morose in her office.

He pretended to be asleep anytime anyone was in there.

But she knew better.

She went to take a seat at what was once his desk and began continuing on the legacy of the famed Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses.

Before she sat, however, she took a beautiful lily, preserved in its still blooming state, and stuck the flower under the frame of his portrait.

Her one small task done, she began filling out the mountain of paperwork that had stacked up over the late headmaster's term.

* * *

It had been exactly one year since the final battle.

One year since all the death.

One year since the nightmare ended.

She stood up on the podium, flanked by her two best friends.

As she looked over the people they had help, she thought about all the changes that had come into their world since they had saved it.

A trio of three people from different backgrounds, different understandings of the gift they had been given.

They were friends, would always be friends.

They had banded together, and had a few rough patches, but through their work, and the work of so many others, the society of magic had become once again free and was currently working towards further freedom and equality for all it ruled.

The past was dim, but the future was bright.

Together, they would prevail.

* * *

_Author's Note Part Two: This fic is modeled on the seven stages of grief, and the characters it refers to, in case the details provided weren't good enough:_

_Shock and Denial – George Weasley in regards to Fred's death  
Pain and Guilt –Teddy Lupin (and a little of Harry Potter) in regards to the Lupins' deaths  
Anger and Bargaining – Dennis Creevey in regards to Colin Creevey's death  
Depression, Reflection, and Loneliness – Molly Weasley in regards to Fred's death  
The Upward Turn – Kingsley Shacklebolt in regards to the Lupins' deaths  
Reconstruction and Working through – Minerva McGonagall in regards to Snape's death  
Acceptance and Hope – Hermione Granger in regards to the whole wizarding world_

Thank you so much for reading!  
xx


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